


Seeing Red

by Pillager



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Clark Kent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pillager/pseuds/Pillager
Summary: Clark has some dark desires you'd never known, and he's going to ensure you know of them, willing or not.Clark is NOT a kind man in this work most of the time, so this is your warning.Warning: includes heavy themes you may or may not like. It's your choice to read, and your media consumption is your responsibility.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	Seeing Red

**Author's Note:**

> First ever posted work; it may or may not have many updates. This was something I was writing when I was wanting some smut, and none of my favorite writers were updating, so I made my own content the best I could. It's one of many collections I have, so please don't be too harsh. I don't claim to be a skilled writer.
> 
> I have many other works on my drive like this. It's a theme I like, and you might not. That's ok. Read what you need, and keep in mind this work might not be what you need.
> 
> Since I can't figure out how to do the emphasis text, thoughts will be inside of these: **

You had begged and pleaded, to your shame. You hardly slept the night before, after it was finally over; how could you? A heavy weight in your heart left you restless, almost as weighty as the arm holding you against it's owner.

Your knuckles were tinged red from your bites, a paltry attempt to keep any whimpers from waking your bed partner. You gave up using your lip for that earlier, after a severe reprimand that was still fresh in your mind.

Clark supposedly cared, or so he claimed, not wanting to see you hurt. Despite your sniveling, you still scoffed as his words floated through your memory.

You yelped as your hand was jerked from your mouth, unable to even think of taking it back considering who was holding it. 

Clark held it up, studying the bloody tracks, and let it fall with a thud. You cradled it to your chest.

"Did you sleep at all (Y/N)?" He pressed you gently to the bed, laying you on your back. You hadn't clenched your eyes shut in time, and caught the heedy, *loving* emotions in his blue ones.

More tears escaped as he rolled over you, and your chest still rubbed the dark, curly hair on his as he avoided crushing you by holding himself up by his forearms. 

Surely not...

"C-clark. Clark. I can't...not so soon!"

He shushed you, opening your mouth with his, nipping your lip lightly. He moved lower. Your panic mounted as he reached your chest, and you pushed at his as he laved at a nipple. It did nothing, of course.

His growl reached your core the same time his length began grinding against it. He moaned while you whimpered from pain. 

"Still can't believe I was the first to take you. The first to claim you." He lined himself with your entrance, and you cried in earnest when he began pushing in.

A thumb flicking your clit did nothing; adding pressure just forced a moan unrelated to pleasure. You'd given up on the fruitless endeavor of shoving him away once he was in you half way, and your hands fell limply to cover your chest to avoid his eyes.

Clark didn't like that. Your hands were tied to the headboard quicker than you could blink, and you screamed as he suddenly bottomed out with a groan. 

He tried distracting you from the pain with a few kisses along your shoulders, all the way down to the sensitive curve of your breast that had your fingers twitching despite yourself. That calloused thumb hadn't stopped, and it started to make his movements feel less like sandpaper. 

The roll of his hips was slow and controlled. The night before, he'd spent hours discovering what made you breathless, made you scream his name after denying him that "right," as he put it, for far too long. A certain angle of his lower half turned your current whines into soft, reluctant pants.

His lids were heavy as he glanced up at you, tongue still working incessantly at swirling around an areola, another action he learned you loved.

His heart soared as he saw your lower lip disappear. 

"What did I tell you about doing that love?" He doubled down on your clit as you released it, squeaking when his mouth was suddenly claiming yours. His laugh sent shivers through you. "It drives me insane."

Your hands gripped your binds as he changed pace. Pounding you into the bed, he moved to grip your hips, which would surely leave more bruises. 

"Say it."

Your eyes closed.

A nip to your neck. "I know you heard me...*say it.*"

You refused. 

You learned quickly Clark was a man of action, more so than words. This was no different.

Feeling returned to your arms, and you found yourself staring wide eyed down at a grinning Clark. Yips left you as he hadn't stopped thrusting, and you fell against his chest quickly, unable to hold yourself any longer with how completely overwhelmed you felt.

Clark didn't mind that, pressing you against him as he kissed you deeply. One hand gave your arse a sharp smack. He swallowed your yelp, doing it again before moving that hand to wind in your thick tresses. 

Your back arched as the coil in your stomach snapped, and you melted into him as he worked to bring you another.

He moved you again, breaking your connection for a moment. You had no further fight to even try to stop him, no resistance as he pressed your forehead into the pillow, and raised your arse into the air. A couple, less wicked smacks before entering you again; it sickened you, but your body responded immediately to the new position that granted better access, forcing a needy whine.

"You like that?" You couldn't respond even if you wanted to. 

The moans were uncontrollable; your voice wasn't your own at that point. Clark seemed to take note as he loosened the strict hold of your hair, slowing his pace.

It was maddening. You were already spent from how long you'd been awake, nearly delirious from exhaustion. He knew it, too. His hands following the curves of your body left your skin on fire for all the wrong reasons while he'd remove himself completely, only to push in quickly. You were left with a small spark leading towards that completion your body desired, only to have it washed away so suddenly. Rinse and repeat, that was his design to reach his end goal.

So inexperienced you were, you had little defences to this, other than a stubbornness that was no match to Clark's vicious insistence.

It was how he got you to say it last night, and exactly how he got you to do it again.

"I'm ohhh yours pleasepleaseplease-"

And then he was hovering over you, having flipped you over, caging you with his body as he slammed into you, hammering that one spot repeatedly that left you writhing and begging some more.

The tightening deep in your stomach unraveled all at once. You were out for a few moments, and when you came to, you cringed at the sudden warmth and stickiness between your legs.

Clark hadn't moved from over you, and you turned your face away when he went for a kiss.

The sun was just rising, a fait bluish hue painting the sky. A new day. More importantly: the first day as Clark's....what would you call yourself?

A sex slave was too dramatic. A means of relief made you feel worthless. A temporary plaything? That one you couldn't entirely believe, given where he kept you.

But there wasn't time to think on that.

You peeked up at Clark, who finished righting himself as he lifted you from the bed. A shiver went through you; not only did he prove his nearly endless strength when he physically dominated you, a simple a glance at him made you weak in the knees with fear.

He was impossibly fit, and even if he wasn't kryptonian you'd have no chance against him. 

"Ready for a shower sweety? Or would you want a bath?" You'd only want them if he was going to leave you alone, but you didn't think you'd be so lucky.

You weren't wrong, in the end. After some faint mumbling, you chose a shower. That decision was how you found yourself leaning with your back to Clark's front on a wall seat, the misty spray of water chilling you as he gently kneeded your breasts with lavender smelling body wash.

You froze the best you could as you felt him harden, and released a breath when his hands traveled downwards to swirl on your stomach, hips, and then thighs. Reversing those motions until he reached your shoulders, he carefully helped you to stand, twirling you to wait before him.

It was nearly impossible to stand on your own, and you gripped his shoulders from the fear of a fall. Clark had a small smile on his face, and you grit your teeth.

He remained focused on your arse far longer than you liked, before kneeling and working on your ankles.

You gasped, inhaling too much water and sputtering as you sought to solidify your hold on his shoulders. He had no need to widen your legs to simply wash them, but he had. You didn't need to guess why for long as a squeak was drawn out from a long lick up through your core. 

You would have fallen from your shaking had he not kept a solid hold on your hips. The rest of you was mostly limp, depending on him, as strings of curses and pleas tumbled from your lips. 

Clark smacked your arse, reddening it and taking away from the pleasure a bit. His low voice against your lower half had you trembling. "Want to eat you out so much you can't even walk without feeling me claiming you, to constantly remind you who you belong to." 

Those words had your heart clench as badly as your core, but for different reasons entirely. 

"Those noises you make....how loud do you think you can scream my name?" *Oh,* that had you whimpering and squirming despite yourself, despite the shame from your body betraying you.

A quiet voice told you to fight, while Clark repeatedly drowned that voice with long fingers that wouldn't stop, hard sucks on your clit that left your legs useless. The one digit moving inside you wasn't enough. He knew that, intimately aware of that one spot hidden away and teased you with it.

You were so very exhausted, and awfully at his mercy. You were sore, especially at the place he was loving, and wanted it over as much as you wanted it to continue.

His eyes glanced at you, and you turned your face away at the fire in them, your head dizzy.

He was saying...something. Spots lit up your vision, but not enough to halt everything from darkening completely.

~~~~

Upon waking, you were still terribly sore. You didn't think there was a chance you'd be using your legs anytime soon. The area below was the worst, for despite Clark's ensuring you were well aroused, you'd still been a virgin, and he'd been far too eager.

He wasn't anywhere to be found as your eyes roamed the room, but that didn't mean he wasn't in the house. 

Bright sunlight was the reason you'd awoken, filtering through the floor to ceiling window. You glanced at the far wall; you knew from experience the doors to the balcony would not be in service.

You shivered remembering how you tried that the night before, and blocked it from your mind. 

A few tries on shaky arms, and you were sitting, resting against the headboard as you tried catching your breath. It hurt worse to move, and even though you were awfully tired, you were afraid to sleep, especially with not knowing where Clark was.

Did he already know you were awake?

Probably, you mused. Hopefully, he wasn't in the house-

Ah, a note on the dresser.

It read:

*Say my name when you're ready for breakfast/lunch, depending on when you wake, and I'll be there.*

*Yours, Clark*

You mentally scoffed. So, he wasn't going to mention anything that he did? After the side of him that he showed you, it didn't really surprise you.

You paused as you re-read the note. He specifically wanted *you* to call for *him.* Of course, he was still in the house and no doubt heard your struggles as you moved.

You shook as you realized that, and held yourself. The crumpling of the paper was horribly loud to you, and you grit your teeth. 

What was worse? Not knowing where he was, and constantly wondering if he was watching you, or, having him with you, the threat of him forcing himself on you at the forefront of your mind?

Everything he put you through in less than 15 hours (maybe less, you weren't sure), tore your heart into little pieces. 

It was honestly too much for you to consider all at once, and your head ached as it all went on a rampage through your mind.

You took a deep breath.

In the end, you tested your leg strength. You hit the floor with a thud, jarring your abused joints. The two steps next to the bed, as the bed was higher than the rest of the bedroom, you luckily managed to avoid. He heard you groan, you knew and didn't care at this point enough to try and hide it.

It took you minutes to raise yourself into a sitting position, again breathing erratically from the exertion. 

Why isn't he up here yet?

You frowned. Honestly, you didn't want to see him, but couldn't help but wonder what game he was playing, or if he had to leave for something. 

Using the bed as support to stand, you considered what he was potentially trying to do, and decided he could go screw himself.

"Not a chance you prick." 

It was shaky, and very painful, but your legs arrived at the door that you knew to lead to the bathroom.

You hair was still damp, given how thick it was, not knotted, so he finished your shower you assumed.

You scowled; there wasn't any of him specifically on you, either. The thought of him bathing you while unconscious sickened you, nausea upsetting your stomach. 

You leaned against the sink, reluctant to but forced your eyes up. You flinched. Your lip had a split, a dark bruise ran along your jaw up to your cheekbone. Part of the skin had been busted open, leaving horrible red splotches.

Surprisingly, he was rather gentle with you, all things considered. He hadn't hit you. 

This had been your doing, as you'd fallen and banged your face against the side of the steps when Clark hadn't yet been there, so you didn't know it was him who'd taken you. 

You'd been tied to the bed. He probably should have expected you to exploit how "considerate" he was by making your bonds loose enough not to hurt, and also placing it rather low so your arms laid comfortably above your head on the bed., rather than taunt and unmovable.

You scoffed as you recalled that, and shook your head at your escape attempt. 

It didn't hurt to move then, and you simply rolled over, moved to your knees, and pressed a foot to the headboard to give you leverage. And, well...there had been too much momentum to stop yourself as the fabric snapped, leaving you to tumble to the ground. 

As if on cue, your face throbbed as the loud bang from hitting the steps cracked across your mind.

You shook it away. That was then, this was now. 

It'd do no good to recall the past when the present was so unpredictable.

*Anything I can put on this?* That thought trailed away as you glanced at the rest of you. He'd given you a dark blue and red nightie, with edges of gold. It actually covered you a bit, you were surprised, going past your knees and covered your shoulders.

The parts of you that you could see? Black and blue dotted across your skin. It wasn't from him intentionally being rough, either. Due to his strength, and most certainly his eagerness, bruises were inevitable. 

On your legs and arms, you could clearly see finger prints and the shapes of his massive hands. 

You of course were in no way excusing him. He'd taken you by force, that was plain and simple. 

"I said no." It was empowering for you to say it, even if he was listening and it fell on deaf ears.

And last night, he attempted multiple times to excuse away and shut down your complaints. 

You'd say you didn't want this, and he'd use the fact that your body naturally responded to certain actions to say you weren't being entirely truthful. 

It was gaslighting, plain and simple.

No matter how considerate he tried to be, you couldn't let yourself forget that .

Pulling up your gown, a look at your hips ensured you wouldn't be so quick to forget. They had the worst bruising of them all, for obvious reasons, and lifting the gown farther up had you cringing.

Bites dotted your chest, and you reluctantly turned to the full length mirror as you removed the clothing completely.

No undergarments, naturally (*eyeroll*), and as you turned, you noted the hand prints more clearly on your hips, where he'd held them in place. 

Your body jerked forward, as if he was still pushing in you as you begged him to stop. If you were still enough, you could still feel the snaps of his lower half.

You rushed to dress yourself again, wincing from the pain. You'd check out the rest of yourself later, you just needed out of there.

There were a few places you could go. The closet, to find some underclothes, or straight out the door. You chose the former.

"Creep." The part driven by an anger you weren't used to hoped he heard that, as you explored your limited options.

The drawers filled with panties and bras only had the first option. *Doesn't he know how uncomfortable that'll be for me?" You shook your head, filing that away for another time.

The underwear? All lace, and left little to the imagination. You threw that thought aside as well, and just plucked one out of the bunch. It was better than nothing, you supposed with a sigh.

Your nerves screamed at you not to go alongside your aching body. Yes, you wanted to run away, but you were well aware you'd have to wait for Clark to make a mistake. This was not a kidnapping case where the captive could outrun the captor, and unless there was some kryptonite lying around, you had no way to give yourself an ounce of leverage.

It hurt, but you accepted it the best you could.

You regarded the paper ripped on the bed, and went straight to the door.

It opened with a *click.*

Despite never physically walking the halls, you knew it quite well. You had drawn the blueprints for it, after all.

You shouldn't have, but you were tired. That's the excuse you accepted quickly enough, and you were happy for it as you fell in love all over again.

It was...exactly as you'd painted and dreamed it to be. For a moment, you forgot where you were. 

It felt like a dream instead of a nightmare for the first time since you were stolen away.

Rows upon rows of bookshelves, reaching to the wrap around walkway that was accessible by two separate swirly staircases. A glass, round ceiling left a larger feeling to the room. Once you entered the room, you'd immediately be greeted by the large stain glass window that towered over the room.

It featured greens, red, blues and golds, and was a garden, where a young girl and her dog sat. You'd been inspired to include it as it had been the first drawing you'd done as a teen. It meant a lot to you, given who you'd drawn.

Tears stung your eyes, and you desperately wiped them away. 

You had work to do; dwelling on the past would do nothing for you now.

Your feet struggled to carry you as you travelled thru the halls, and you eventually settled on another destination, the pangs in your stomach guiding you.

The smell of whatever he cooked reached you before his voice, which brought an instant heat to your face.

"I told you to call for me. I did give you a rule that applies for this, didn't I?" 

His eyes met yours as he turned, no shirt (*of freaking course*), and you scowled.

His response? To *tut* at you. *Who does that?* Were you afraid of him? Yes, but you still had an electric temper that was sparking, searching for places to set alight.

"What was it again?" 

He repeated himself after no response from you, tacking on, "there's another rule broken."

You couldn't help it as the words left you, "so, we're just going to pretend you didn't force yourself on me last night? That you didn't kidnap me?" 

There was a lot more you wanted to say, but the tensing of his shoulders was the self-control you needed.

When he demanded you sit, you did with a slight pause. A tilt of his eyes towards you had your sore bum faster in the seat than you'd like to admit.

There was luckily no silence; a small tv played some type of sport, but you paid it no mind as you silently stewed on your worry the longer he took. 

You had half a mind to ask if you could help, but considering you had already broken 2 rules, you decided to not risk breaking another (considering you didn't entirely remember them, you could also be breaking one by *not* offering to help).

*I am so screwed...* 

You stole glances at Clark as he finished, and folded your hands on your lap as you thanked him for the plate and (coffee/tea).

He let you both finish, his attention mostly on the tv, and you took further sips as to avoid looking at him. Your anger had simmered, and you truly didn't want to see any more of his.

Why wasn't he punishing you yet, taking away your meal? Doing *anything* other than acting as if you hadn't broken one of his rules? 

You jumped at his voice.

"Since I cooked, you're to clean. From now on, that's how we'll handle day to day tasks like this. It's a give and take relationship-" he helped you stand and take the plate to the sink "-you'll see. It's not as uneven as you think it is." 

He was looking down at you with those freaking blue eyes, you knew, and you simply nodded in response, before remembering yourself.

You hoped a quick "alright" would placate him for the time being, and it seemed to as he went away for something.

Your hands shook as you finished. You wished he had immediately gotten onto reprimanding you compared to this, this tortuous waiting you had to do. 

You dried the last dish with a towel, placing it in the rack with a few more clanks than necessary. You winced, and peered behind you. 

He wasn't there. 

*Oh, this is even worse.* 

Was what you said wrong? No, but you shouldn't have gone off simply because while he claimed the "relationship" was even, you had no leverage. Had he been a normal man, that would still be the case. 

He could kill you, if he wanted. You wanted out of here; that didn't mean you wanted to die to escape. 

You absently dried you hands on a dish towel, scrunching your nose at the horrible dishwater smell that lingered. Your eyes closed; how physical would he get? You hurt so much already. Standing took a lot out of you. 

*Oh hell.* You pinched your skin. You needed to buck up, hold yourself together.

There was a voice trying to tell you to beg, to plead forgiveness. Had he pressured those words from you last night? Your mouth went dry remembering, but you made a promise to keep that to a minimum today.

*But what's the point in that, if I only get hurt the more that I do it?*

Your legs hurt as you went to leave, holding the wall for support. You didn't see or hear him anywhere.

Should you wait? You decided to at least try to avoid him, for now, and hugged the wall occasionally as your breath left you often.

The doorway out was exactly as you knew it would be. It seemed he added little to nothing new that you hadn't drawn up yourself.

You remembered how he'd mentioned that he'd want security.

"Need to keep what I love safe." You held yourself as the words echoed in your mind. At the time, you figured he'd meant a pet, or some heirlooms. He always pointed out he was single, and you suggested a pet, after he told you it got lonely.

He had smiled, and told you it was already something he had been thinking of. 

Your back hit the wall after losing your strength, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

It was going to be a long afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> If you think there are any tags I need to add, I don't mind if you say so. I'm still very new to this.
> 
> See my other work "New Sensations" for a similar theme with Steve Rogers.


End file.
